


into the closet

by fallizbian



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: 3x18, F/F, Fluff, Late Night Conversations, You Make Being a Priest Sound Like Something Bad, firby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallizbian/pseuds/fallizbian
Summary: "back in my closet by midnight, cinderella"a one-shot based on 3x18
Relationships: Kirby Anders & Fallon Carrington, Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	into the closet

**Author's Note:**

> thank you amanda for beta reading :)

By the end of the evening, Fallon can feel a blister forming on the edge of her right heel and her scalp is sore from the pins that hold her hair up. She’s used to it, of course, but there’s something uniquely defeating about tonight. In less than a week, she’s made a fool of herself more times than she cares to admit, and she’s got nothing to show for it beyond even more doubt and uncertainty.

As Fallon pushes open the door to her room, she pulls the pins out of her hair, one by one, breathing a sigh of relief as her curls fall down onto her shoulders in a tangled mess. She rolls her shoulders back and practically falls onto the bench in front of her vanity, running her hands through her hair and wincing when her fingers snag. 

She fingers the bottle of aftershave on her vanity. Liam’s been gone to New York for almost a week, and there’s a part of her that could really use his arms wrapped around her right now, and yet another part of her feels like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She _knows_ that something hasn’t been completely right between them in a while, but it hadn’t really been as glaringly apparent until they’d taken a step away from each other. 

Fallon sighs, slipping her heels off and into the slippers that live under the vanity. She wiggles her toes before standing up and making her way over to her closet, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the ornate door to pull it open. 

She’s pretty sure she jumps a few feet in the air when she sees Kirby _in her fucking closet_ , still wearing her dress from earlier with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Kirby, what the fuck are you doing snooping around in my closet?” Fallon asks, putting a hand to her chest. Kirby looks around, running her hands along the row of Fallon’s dresses. She smiles, and Fallon follows her gaze to where she’s fingering the white one that Fallon wore when she and Adam went out to bring Kirby home.

“Well, you said to have the dress back by midnight,” Kirby starts, her eyes snapping back to the gown she’s wearing. “But then I came up here and then you walked in and I thought maybe it would be weird if I just came out of the closet while you were just in your room, and then I thought maybe you might want to talk.”

Kirby looks up at Fallon, and Fallon wants to cringe at the view she’s sure Kirby sees. Her eyeliner is smudged, her hair looks like a bird took a nap in it, and she just _feels_ like shit.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Kirby adds, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Fallon brushes past her into the closet, pulling the strings of her dress and slipping it off her shoulders as she reaches for a robe to wrap around herself.

“Well, since you’re here, can you give me a hand?” she asks, gathering her hair over one shoulder and looking back at Kirby, whose brain seems to have short-circuited. Fallon watches her hands twitch a bit before she reaches for Fallon’s back, fingers brushing against her skin as she undoes the latch of her bra. Fallon steps away, cupping the bra to her chest, skin still tingling in the places where Kirby’s fingers had been. 

“Do you mind?” Fallon says, her eyes darting down to her chest and back up to Kirby, who seems to be staring right through her. Kirby blinks a few times before speaking.

“Uh, sorry,” Kirby mumbles, shaking her head as if to clear the fog from her mind before she averts her gaze and spins on her heel. 

“You’re good,” Fallon says, wrapping her robe around herself and tying it off. In a completely unladylike and very much out-of-character move, she slides down onto the floor, crossing her legs and leaning up against the doorframe. “You’re not wrong, I guess. Everything’s been a little off lately.”

It feels weird to admit. She’s spent the past week running around trying to find the perfect wedding gift for a wedding that she’s not even sure will happen - that she’s not even sure she _wants_ to happen. And she just feels _off_. Nobody but Kirby had noticed. 

Kirby situates herself next to Fallon, tangling her long legs in the dress on the way down and half-falling onto the ground with a laugh. Fallon can’t help but laugh with her, a little bit of her stress dissipating at the sight of Kirby trying to hike the dress up past her knees so she can sit with Fallon on the floor of her closet.

“Seeing as you’ve already raided my closet— in more ways than one— why don’t you just grab a pair of pajamas?” Fallon offers, gesturing to the dresser on Kirby’s other side.

Kirby thinks for half a moment before standing and pulling out a pair of light blue ones. She slips the straps of the dress off her shoulders, letting it billow to the ground.

Fallon has a single thought in the following moment, and this is the fact that Kirby is not wearing a bra. And she isn’t _trying_ to stare. She’s not. But her eyes skate down over Kirby’s long legs to the heels she’s still wearing and then back up past her stomach and all of a sudden they’re stuck on her chest again.

Kirby kicks the heels off with a laugh, and Fallon just knows that her face is turning beet red.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she says with a shrug, and Fallon sputters for a moment.

“I’ve never— it’s not—”

“Fallon.” Kirby reaches over, pulling lightly at the edge of the robe where it sits against Fallon’s collarbone. “They’re just tits. You have some, remember?”

_Oh_ . _Right._

Fallon stays quiet, trying to refocus her eyes onto Kirby’s face. When she looks up, Kirby’s got a smug smile painted onto her face. She pushes her hair back, cocking a hip and settling her other hand there.

“See something you like?”

Fallon stays silent, afraid that if she opens her mouth that she’ll admit something that she’s never said aloud. 

Kirby’s smile softens, and she slips her arms into the sleeves, leaving a few buttons undone at the top as she sits next to Fallon.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Kirby says quietly, threading her arm into Fallon’s and resting her head on Fallon’s shoulder. Fallon resists the urge to just relax and lean into Kirby. Their friendship has had more than its fair share of ups and downs, but at the end of the day, Kirby’s the one that makes her feel safest and who’s stood by her the most in the last few years.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” Fallon replies, her breath catching when Kirby snuggles a little more into her side at her words. She squeezes her eyes shut. “You were the only one that noticed.” 

“Noticed what, exactly? I mean, obviously something’s wrong but…” Kirby pauses, tilting her head up to look at Fallon. “I can’t quite finger it.”

Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and Fallon so desperately wants to lie to Kirby and tell her that everything is fine. She wants to pretend, just like with everyone else, that her relationship isn’t crumbling to pieces around her.

“I don’t know if we’re meant to be,” she says, though, the words tumbling out before she can stop herself. Kirby blinks at her.

“That’s, uh, wow,” Kirby says carefully, her eyes widening a bit before she schools her features back into a neutral stare. “What makes you say that?”

She doesn’t really want to talk about it, but there’s something about Kirby that’s lulling her into submission. Kirby’s hand reaches up, softly brushing over the tangles in her hair.

“C’mon,” Kirby says, shifting her weight such that Fallon almost falls into her lap. She can feel the start of a blush creeping into her cheeks, but Kirby says nothing. Instead, she vanishes back into the bedroom for a moment, returning with Fallon’s brush and plopping back down on the floor. She pats the ground between her outstretched legs. Fallon hesitates.

“You may as well let me work out some of those tangles while we talk,” Kirby says.

Fallon acquiesces, sitting on the ground and wrapping her arms around her knees as Kirby gets to work, pulling a few stray pins out and beginning to gently work the brush through her hair.

It’s been a long time since anyone’s brushed Fallon’s hair, and as the pulls on her scalp become less frequent, she can feel her eyelids growing heavy and the tension in her shoulders slipping away. 

“Tell me why you’re panicking, Fallon.” Kirby’s words are a lilted whisper, so close to her that when Fallon startles back to reality she swears that Kirby’s lips brush her ear. Kirby laughs at Fallon’s reaction, and her hand falls from Fallon’s head down to the spot where her shoulders meet her neck. “Where’s the fire? You’re so tense.”

Kirby digs a thumb into the muscles there, and Fallon bites back a moan and suppresses the urge to let her head fall back onto Kirby’s shoulder. Instead, she wriggles away from Kirby on the floor, pulling her robe tighter around her body as she feels her cheeks beginning to flush.

There’s a moment of silence, and Kirby surveys her for a moment before ducking her head.

“I’m sorry,” Kirby says quietly. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

There’s a resigned look in her eyes that Fallon knows all too well. It’s the same look Kirby’s given her a million times, whenever she’s hurt that Fallon doesn’t lean into their friendship as much as Kirby always has. Fallon’s quiet for a moment, her mind churning as she tries to think through how much she wants to share with Kirby. 

When Fallon doesn’t answer, Kirby moves to stand up, her chest heaving with a sigh. Fallon grabs her arm and wrenches Kirby back down to the floor. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she says quietly, letting go of Kirby’s arm to tangle her hands in her robe. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

Kirby sighs, running a hand over Fallon’s hair and smoothing it back before pressing her lips to the side of her head. Fallon’s heart seizes as she leans into the kiss before she can help it, and she shoves down the little voice in her head. It’s not meant to be anything, just a thoughtless gesture borne of sleep and comfort, but there’s just something so _right_ about the way that Kirby’s holding her. 

“That’s a lie.” 

The words fly out of her mouth, but Kirby doesn’t react except for a slight quirk of her eyebrow and a thin smile. In the dim light floating in from the main room, Fallon can almost convince herself it was a trick of the eye. 

“I don’t love him like I should.” Tears prick the edge of Fallon’s eyes, and she twists her hands in her lap. “I broke this relationship just like I broke it with Culhane and with Jeff and with every single other man I’ve ever been with.”

“You know, I think you get a free pass on Jeff,” Kirby says. “The real deciding factor there was the whole _incest_ bit.”

Fallon rolls her eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Honestly, I don’t.” Kirby shrugs. “Fallon, you not only gave everything in you to get Liam’s memory back, but you also knew when it was time to stop trying and let things happen on their own. You kept your entire family together when Fake Cristal died— don’t think I don’t know about that. You dragged everyone to Peru to try to fix them—”

“Yeah, you weren’t invited to that.” Fallon wipes her cheeks, wrapping her arms around herself before she does something stupid. Kirby waves her off.

“Whatever. We had fun. I gave a boring trip some flavor. My point is, you’re wrong. Fallon, your love is fierce and all-encompassing. More so than anyone else I’ve ever known. Liam’s lucky to be loved by you.”

Unlike everything else she’s done tonight, Fallon thinks very carefully through her next move. She leans back, sweeping her eyes over Kirby. She’d never finished buttoning the pajama shirt Fallon had lent her, and something about the way that _her_ shirt hangs open on Kirby has her head reeling and her mind running away with thoughts she’s not supposed to have. When she tears her gaze away up to Kirby’s face, Kirby’s wide brown eyes are looking at her thoughtfully, her lips just slightly parted. The faintest whiff of her mango shampoo drifts across the room as she leans into Fallon as if she’s waiting for her to say something important.

Instead of speaking, though, she leans in to meet her, capturing Kirby’s lips with her own and letting everything else around her fall away. 


End file.
